


Do It Right Or Not At All

by Eternallost



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Acting, Banter, Cunnilingus, Dominance, F/M, Fetish, Fluff, Kissing, Mommy Issues, Other, Role-Playing Game, Romance, Theatre
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2019-10-14 05:59:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17502956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternallost/pseuds/Eternallost
Summary: What if Coach Genghis were an acting coach instead?





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh, I have waited for you for so long.” Violet tediously flipped the page in the script. “Come to me.”

 “No, _no_!” Olaf stood from his seat third row and center in the audience, waving his hands enthusiastically. “Miss Baudelaire,” he stood in front of her, beneath the raised stage. “I gave you the starring role because I thought you had some natural talent. _Must_ you insist upon proving me wrong?”

“Fine, let me go, I never wanted this. You were the one that placed me here when I didn’t even audition.” She dropped the rolled blue playbook to her side. “And where are Klaus and Sunny, anyway? Why aren’t they in your stupid production? We already know that you’re Count-“ 

“Counting on you to succeed? Yes, _yes_ , I know!” Olaf raised his hidden brow from under his poorly formed turban. “Now, just because you are related to those brats, er, _students_ , it doesn’t mean that they deserve preferential treatment. They should have auditioned like everyone else.”

“Right!” Violet threw her hands up, “Everyone _except_ me!”

 “Director Genghis?” Carmelita waved her hand as she buffaloed in front of Violet. “I believe you were off about one incy-wincy thing?”

“Hm?” Olaf grunted from between his fingers.

“The star here is beautiful, wondrous, xylophone, **me**!” Her smile looked hard enough to break teeth.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” Olaf tossed a hand over his back as he returned to his seat. “Let’s try it again. From the top. This time with _feeling_ , Miss Baudelaire.” He nestled into his chair and steepled his fingers, tilting them towards the stage. “Go.”

“Oh,” Violet stifled a yawn. “I have waited for you for so long.” She sighed. “Come to me.”

“ **Cut!** ” Olaf stood once more with a murderous look in his shiny, shiny eyes.

Violet once again felt the falling in the pit of her stomach. No. She had to be brave. Count Olaf was keeping her away from her school work, away from her friends and family, keeping her miserable so she would fail or quit. It seemed he had singled her out because she was the eldest and therefore most soon-to-be _profitable_ Baudelaire. But she would not falter. She would make him regret his choice of plan. She would be victorious.

“Practice is over! You were all wonderful!” He clasped his hands. “Everyone is dismissed. Everyone,” he growled as he ascended the stage steps, “but our dear _Miss_ Baudelaire.”

“You can’t do this, you know,” Violet crossed her arms as the sound of retreating shoes shuffled further off, silent after the slamming of the heavy stage door.

“Can’t do what, exactly?”

 “Keep me here until _dawn_ every school night!”

 “Cracking already, are we?” He tutted as he circled her.

“Never.”

He snorted in something akin to approval.

“Where are your henchmen, anyway? I thought they _liked_ acting. Maybe they want to be here. Unlike some people.”

“Afraid they’ve got a hold of your brat siblings?” He paused behind her so she had to turn.

“Not really, I see them around Prufrock. They seem to be doing as well as expected. Far better than me, but, we both know the reason for that.” She gave him a vicious glare.

He both ignored and examined her. “Did you know your mother was an actress?” 

“ _Excuse_ me?” Violet pulled back as if he’d accused her of something dreadful. 

“We were actors, together. Her and I. Your father, too. You’re part of a whole great line of Baudelaire phonies. Aren’t you proud?”

“ _That can’t be_.”

A smile spit Olaf’s face, the act of doing so looked painful. “ _Can’t be_.” He mocked. “After all, you know everything already, don’t you, little girl?” 

“ _I never said I did_! I just don’t trust you. I’ve lived long enough to learn that much.”

 “It’s a good thing you’re nothing like her on stage or I would have been sick all over your schoolgirl loafers.” He looked at his nails. “Tell me Violet, have you ever been in love?”

“ _What_?” Violet gasped. Suddenly realizing her reaction said it all.

His eyes volleyed to hers as a smile quirked his lips. “Figures.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” She spoke indignantly.

 “Oh,” Olaf looked at her with the most heartbreakingly longing look she’d ever seen. Her heart sped up as she saw his hand grasp hers tenderly, achingly soft with warming pressure. An unspoken promise of safety in his touch. She looked down at his broad hand engulfing hers as she looked back at his tearing eyes. “I have waited for you for so long.” He shook his head slowly, almost in disbelief. Her pupils dilated in response, her breath coming shorter. He swept a trembling hand around her back as he whispered words for only her to hear, “Come to me,” he begged like a dying man for salvation. Her hands came forward unbidden, resting on his chest as she searched his eyes, a galaxy within his eyes, before pressing him away. 

“No one,” her voice was raspy, unsure, “would ever believe that act.” She wrapped her arms around her waist, attempting to ensure her organs were all in place.

“I see,” Olaf placed one arm into the other as he straightened up. “And I’ve been working on it for quite some time, too.” 

“You bastard!” She turned towards him still fighting off the creeping flush of embarrassment. 

He tilted his head and looked at her curiously, “A bastard, _hm_? What’s got you hot and bothered, orphan?”

“How many girls have you-“ she swallowed. “Nothing. Forget it. These long nights are messing with my head.”

“You want them to end? Then do it **right** , Violet. Make me believe and I’ll let you spend your boring days in your boring schooling with your boring siblings and boring friends. But I know you. _Don’t shake your head_. You may not think so, but I’m very thorough in my research. Once I’m gone, I bet you’ll come crawling to the stage some nights _itching_ for a bit of excitement.” 

“Oh,” Violet reached for him gently, he swatted her away.

“No.” He squinted. “This is me, Violet. Look. At. Me. You wouldn’t be reaching for me sweetly. Come on now: Do it right or not at all.”

“ ** _Oh_** ,” she growled low in her throat as she snatched his shirt angrily and held it fast. He looked down at her fist, then to her face with widened eyes. She licked her lips and pulled something dark from deep within herself. “I have waited for you for so long.”

“Tell me, Violet,” his voice was a curious fire, “what have you waited for?” 

She pulled him down, leading him until he was on his knees, she wanted him to grovel, she wanted him to plead for forgiveness for the atrocities he’d put her through. “Come to me.” She ordered. “On your knees.”

An uncertain thrill bloomed in his stomach as he moved across the stage. As he reached her stockinged legs, she grabbed his chin and tilted it towards her face. “Tell me. Have I made you believe?” 

He nodded without a word, without so much as a breath. 

“Good.” She released him and the spell was broken. “Then I’m going to bed.” She turned without a backward glance as the clicking of her shoes vanished behind the clasp of the heavy door.

On his knees in the silent auditorium, Olaf was left itching for excitement.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Violet was surprised when Olaf kept his word. In making him believe her acting, she was released from fall play practice. Carmelita accepted the role, one she’d openly assumed was hers. Things were as normal now as normal could be. The only thing that irked her was how Olaf and his troupe refused to admit defeat and leave. It seemed there was more to uncover about their plans at Prufrock Prep. At that very moment, Klaus was doing research about the buildings’ architecture, the history of the auditorium, and the on goings of afterschool clubs.

 Violet wouldn’t admit it, but as the months passed, Olaf may have been right about things being boring. And what was wrong with that? Teachers droning on was better than houses burning down. Cafeteria food was better than trying to prove your innocence. Even the recitals were better (with the addition of earplugs and a good book) than breathlessly running for your life.

“Come on, Sunny,” Violet smiled as she entered Nero’s office at sunset, “time to go.”

 “Union,” Sunny garbled as Violet picked her up to punch her timecard near the door.

“How are those staples we made holding up?” Violet asked as she carried her sister through the halls. They were headed to the shack that now resembled a home thanks to Klaus’ research and Violet’s engineering. The pale pinks and purples outside the pane windows lightened Sunny’s fine hair. It felt as if the sun were shinning on the Baudelaires. Whether it was in the midst of a storm or after was still to be determined.

 “Ah,” Olaf interrupted, “Miss Baudelaire. Playing mommy now, are we? Is _that_ the role you chose over the lead?”

 Her back straightened at his presence. “Not at all. Sunny takes good care of herself. She feeds herself, she dresses herself, and she even has a steady job, unlike some people. Perhaps you’re the one in need of a _mommy_ , Olaf.”

 His lip twitched imperceptibly at the subject. Violet knew she’d struck a nerve. She just needed to understand how to exploit it. Olaf tilted his head at the toddler secretary, “My, aren’t _you_ lucky?” Then he turned back to Violet, “I dropped by to inform you of your role in the upcoming spring musical.”

 A _musical_?” Violet scoffed as she placed Sunny on her own two feet. “If I wasn’t great at reading lines, how do you think I would be at _singing_ them?”

 Your mother was a great singer,” Olaf examined a speck of dirt from his black turtleneck. “I thought the apple wouldn’t fall far from the tree.”

In the silence she could hear the final bell signaling the evening concert was about to begin.

 “As you can see, I am _not_ my mother.”

"Thank heaven for small mercies,” he scoffed.

“Why would I want to be in your stupid musical anyway?”

 “Well, now,” Olaf crossed his arms, “I know your siblings can ‘take care of themselves’ but I thought that their well-being was important to you.”

 “It is. We made a deal.”

 "Oh, Violet, Violet,” he tsked. “That was for the fall play. This is spring.” He smiled, “And we’re in for one hell of a production.”

 

* * *

 Violet placed the script down after a late solo reading with Director Genghis- er- Olaf. The routine was easy to get used to. The material? Not so much. “Don’t you think this is,” she fought back a flush of embarrassment, “too grown up? I mean, I’m not yet an adult.”

“But you _are_ past the age of consent,” Olaf noted. “Isn’t it about time you learned about the birds screwing the bees?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works…” Violet squinted.

“See? You’re a pro already.” 

Auditions were restricted to the members of Olaf’s troupe, and some of them didn’t even make the final cast. What kind of school production was it when only one student was involved? She wondered if it would play for an audience at all.  

“I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” she placed the script in her lap.

“No,” he shook his head, “I got a taste of you a couple of months ago. Miss Baudelaire, you’re destined for so much more.”

“More of a headache.” She put her face in her palm as she sighed.

“Come now,” he frowned, “you can’t tell me you haven’t any knowledge of fetishes?”

She chewed her lip. “Is that when people like to be tied up?” 

“It could be,” he nodded, leaning back in his director’s chair as the spotlight shone on their lonely forms. “A fetish is some form of sexual desire in which gratification is linked to an abnormal degree to something in particular.”

It was then that the gears in Violet’s engineering brain sprung into action. “Like a mother fetish?” 

Olaf winced once more, covering it with the twirl of his hand, “Or a father fetish. Some people like to feel secure in placing their trust in their partner. Perhaps they feel the weight of the world is too heavy and they want someone else to take care of them. Maybe they’re lacking a healthy maternal influence. Could be a bunch of reasons.” He paused before looking at her, “But there are much stranger tastes out there than that...” 

“Of course,” Violet nodded. “You know what?” She placed her hands around the back of her head, feeling a tingling as she lifted the heat of her hair and tied it into a low ponytail, “I think I’ve found the inspiration for my character.” 

He cleared his throat, “You have?”

“I want my love interest to have a mother fetish. I myself am lacking a maternal figure- as you like to point out.” She looked down before searching his eyes, “I’d like to explore that side of me.”

“I- I see.” Olaf flipped through the script, “Well, it does say that his fetish is to be defined.” 

“I suddenly find myself wanting to practice,” Violet pressed herself out of her chair. “Will you be my partner?”

She saw him shift and knew that she had an advantage. She could feel the upper hand thrumming through her veins. The prickling hint of power over her enemy had her wanting to understand: How could she structure this scene to her advantage?

“For starters,” she licked her lips, “I want you to call me mommy.”

Olaf blinked, forcing indifference. “All right.”

“All right _who_?”

“All right,” he swallowed, his voice low as if the word were forbidden, “Mommy.”

“That’s better, Olaf, what a good boy finding his character.” She approached his sitting form. “Mommy wants to give you a pat on the head, will you take off that silly turban?”

 Olaf flinched away from her waiting palm and looked at her suspiciously.

She blinked. If she gave him too long to think about it, he would know she was trying to expose his unibrow. “I asked you nicely, Olaf,” she placed her hands on her hips in her best approximation of an angry Beatrice, “Am I going to have to ask you again?”

“No,” Olaf sat straighter, “No, that’s fine.” He shifted the material. “It was getting hot under there anyway.”

 “Such a good boy,” Violet purred as she worked her hands through his hair. “My good boy.” The strands were surprisingly soft, not old and dry as she’d expected. He gave a funny whimper as she did so, his eyes closed and a serene expression on his face. If only she’d had a handcuff, she’d attach him to his chair right then. She’d scream in the halls for everyone to wake up and look. Here was Count Olaf, the murderer and arsonist was right here, becoming putty beneath her fingertips. The very thought caused her to smile.

“Mommy?” Olaf’s eyes were open, a strange and trusting look in them that made her want to snatch her hands away and wash them. 

“Yes,” Violet stalled for inspiration, “sweetheart?”

“Can I hold you? You’ve been away for so long.”

 “I, uh,” she stumbled, “yes, of course.” She opened her shaky arms, forcing them wider to be more inviting.

 As she should have expected, Olaf buried his face in her chest as his long arms came around her waist. “I missed you,” he mumbled. She could feel the vibrations of his speech, the dampness of his breath through her cotton shirt.

“Mmhmm.” Violet nodded as she tried to figure a way to wrap her arms around him without bringing herself further into his mouth.

“Have you missed me?” He whispered as she wondered if he could feel her chest perking under his lips. The sensation tied a silent knot in her stomach. 

“Yes,” her voice was a little too breathless. 

“Mommy?” he looked up at her from between her breasts. 

“Hm?” she fearfully looked down. 

“Can I have a kiss goodnight?”

“I” she swallowed, “Olaf, aren’t you too grown up to kiss your mother goodnight?”

“Never,” he replied with a thinly veiled passion.

 “Ah-” she bit her lip, “All right then, Olaf. One kiss and then off to bed.” She leaned down, attempting to sort out a plan just as Olaf’s nimble fingers undid her knot and her chestnut hair came cascading around their faces. In the curtain of darkness, she could imagine it was anyone’s lips on her own. His hands in her hair pulled her possessively closer, the soft give of his mouth surprising as she closed her eyes. When she opened them it was over. Olaf was sitting nonchalantly as she unsteadily perched on his chair like a frightened bird. 

“One kiss,” he held up a finger. “Or have I left you wanting more?”

Violet’s entire body flushed at that.

He dismissed her, “Now, off to bed.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

“Baudelaire, you’re late.”

“Am I? I didn’t know I was on a schedule.” Violet headed up the stage steps, carrying her books in the crook of her elbow. “I thought I was always at your beck and call.”

“True. But this is a rehearsal.”

“Okay, you’re right,” she gave an exasperated sigh as she placed her books on the stage, “yes.”

“Yes, who?”

“Yes… Director.”

“That’s better. Now since you’ve so vehemently abandoned the idea of a mommy fetish- have you chosen your character’s motivation?”

Violet rolled her eyes. “No. Not really.”

“What?” Olaf withdrew, a hand to his chest. “This is a crucial part of character development. How can you convey their emotions? Smell the pheromones? Feel the excitability?”

“Oh no. I can’t.” Violet spoke in monotone, “I guess you’ll just have to find another lead.”

“Oh,” Olaf chuckled, “orphan.” He placed an arm around her shoulder and leaned in, “You. Wish.”

She looked at him with disgust. “As a matter of a fact, I do.”

“You do,” he tilted his head, “don’t you?”

She nodded hesitantly.

“Well,” he paused as he examined her, “too bad. You’re mine, you know. Mine for the taking.”

Her brows furrowed indignantly. “What?”

He pulled back for dramatics. “For taking and shaping and molding and creating any character I damn well please.”

Violet slumped. “Of course. But, can you hurry it up? I’ve got a math test tomorrow and I have to remember the lengths of a lot of objects.”

Olaf sniggered. “Objects?”

“Pencil, red herring, baguette, distance to the vault. Nothing of importance.”

“Nothing of importance,” he mocked, “indeed.”

Violet straightened, her hands gripping the stool on stage. “Why, is there something important?”

Olaf blinked. “Your lines.” He pecked at the script with his finger, “Your motivation.”

Violet’s heels clicked the chair. “My motivation is getting the hell out of here.”

“Language,” He raised a brow.

“Oh, so I can’t curse- but I can be interested in sexual activities?”

“Teenagers,” Olaf shrugged. 

Violet breathed in through her nose, “This is so tedious. Can’t you just hold me for ransom already?”

“You’d like that,” Olaf quirked a smile, “wouldn’t you?”

“At this point, yes. Go right ahead.”

Olaf stalled for a moment, truly seeing the woman before him before he took a seat on the stool opposite her. “Well, I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m having too much fun.” He booped her nose.

She swatted him away. “All right, then. How do we get through the night?”

“You tell me. Your. Motivation.”

Violet closed her eyes. “Just give me yours.”

His eyes fluttered. “What?”

“You heard me. I obviously have no idea what I’m talking about- so I’ll just take your motivation.”

“Robbing orphans blind?”

“No.”

“Reducing things to smoldering ashes?”

“No.”

“Killing my liver slowly?”

She snorted, “No.”

He looked perplexed, “If not that, then what?”

“Come on, Director,” Violet scoffed, “I’m talking about the play.”

“Oh. Right.”

“So,” Violet kicked her chair again. “What gets you in the mood?”

Olaf stroked his beard. “Do you really want to know, orphan?”

Violet shrugged, acting aloof. “Sure.”

“Look at me, Violet.”

She followed his gaze, her eyes wider than intended.

“Do you really want to know?”

Her heart stopped for a moment. How were his eyes so… shiny? “I’m asking, aren’t I?”

“Then, close your eyes.”

“What?”

“You heard me, brat,” his voice was soft, “close your eyes.”

She followed suit and closed them. “I don’t see how any of this will-“

“Keep them closed. Now, stay perfectly still.”

She stayed still for a moment before she twitched her nose at an itch.

“Still.”

She could feel her heart in her throat as she complied.

“Good girl,” his voice whispered in her ear. She shuddered at the feel of it. “Now, I want you to stand up.”

“Can I open my eyes?”

“No, you may not. Place your feet on the floor.”

Violet shifted uncertainly.

“I won’t let you fall.”

She was reluctant to believe him as she felt for the ground with one foot, then the other. 

“That’s a good girl.”

Violet felt a lightness in her stomach as she breathed against the feeling.

“Now brush your hair over your shoulder.”

She kept her eyes closed. “Why?”

“I thought you wanted to know, Violet. You’re an insatiable girl. Always looking for more, more, more. Don’t you want to know?”

“I… yes.”

“Then, do as your told.”

She combed her fingers through her locks shifting them over her left shoulder. 

“Put your hands on the stool.” 

She grasped for the iron in the darkness, placing her hands down on the flat top. Her body bent forward in the awkward position.

“That’s my good little girl.”

Her stomach climbed higher as her breath hitched at the words. What did it matter if she was good? What did it matter what he thought of her at all? She wanted to be bad just to spite him. She wanted to spit in his face only to see his expression. Yet, she stood still. The silence lingered. Where was he looking at? Was he even there at all? Had he walked away, leaving her standing on stage holding some stool? Would she be standing there for hours? She couldn’t hear him move. She couldn’t hear him breathing.

“Olaf?” She whispered to the empty stage.

“Right here,” his voice was on top of her, surrounding her. “Always. Right here. You’ll do well not to forget that.”

She swallowed. “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Depends. Who are you asking?”

“Can I open my eyes now, Director?”

“Very good, Violet. Very good. I’m so proud of you. Go ahead.”

She blinked against the spotlight as the blood rushed through her veins. “Aren’t you- weren’t you going to show me something?”

“You’re a smart girl, Violet.” Olaf smiled as he reclaimed his seat, his hand curled under his chin. “I already have. And it pleases me to no end.”


	4. Chapter 4

“And now for the only part that truly matters…”

“Curtain call?”

“Bows are important Ms. Baudelaire, but this is far more exquisitely so.” Olaf paused for dramatic effect. “Aren’t you the least bit curious?”

“Not really, no.”

“The kiss!” Olaf interrupted with a flourish. The small student cast and supervisory teacher gasped in anticipation. Some clapped. Some jeered.

Violet’s stomach lurched. “You mean a stage kiss? Like a thumb over the lips or something?”

Olaf snorted, “Honestly, Violet, what do you think this is? A school play?”

“It _is_ a school play,” she emphasized.

“Exactly!” Olaf deflected by playing to his crowd, “We need to draw in those talent scouts and get these kids headed to Hollywood! So come on Ms. Baudelaire, show us what you got.”

“James is in this scene as much as I am,” she gestured to a wide-eyed brunette covered in a sheen of sweat.

“Yes, yes, Jake will have his moment,” Olaf waved his hand. “But, this kiss, dear Violet, is prompted by you. Haven’t you read the script?”

“Only every evening until 3 in the morning.”

“What a studious girl,” Olaf leaned to the supervisory teacher, “isn’t she studious, Mrs. Hopkins?”

Mrs. Hopkins tittered at the attention. Violet stared up at the stage lights wishing one would fall onto her head and end her misery. Maybe two so that she could erase her memory of the past month.

“And, action!” Olaf took a seat in the front row beside the curly haired teacher.

Violet stood for a moment contemplating her choices, her heart beating in her ears.

“Action.” Olaf’s voice became lower and the air became tense. She had to do something. Anything. Violet bent forward and pressed a kiss to the lead’s salty lips.

“You’re the only one that I want,” she mumbled through her blush. James started to hyperventilate.

“Cut! Cut!” Olaf waved his hands. “What. Was that?”

“A kiss.” Violet crossed her arms defensively.

“That wasn’t a kiss, silly girl. That was a peck. Birds peck. Are you a bird, Violet?”

She had to look away from his shiny eyes. “No.”

“Good. Now show me a kiss.” He reclaimed his seat. “Action!”

Violet breathed in through her nose as she watched James slowly dying on stage. She squinted her eyes and wiggled her nose. Maybe she should put up her hair. Maybe it would help her think of something.

“ **Action,** Violet.”

She bit her lip and leaned forward. James shut his eyes tightly. The stage grew silent and the world was spinning.

“I can’t!” She turned towards the audience. “I can’t do it. Find another lead.”

Carmelita nearly bulldozed her, but Olaf held up his palm. “The cast list is final, Ms. Baudelaire. Your graduation from this school depends on the successful completion of this play- as approved by your principal. And your poor siblings need your attendance to remain here. Wouldn’t that be a shame if you were to fail? Whatever would happen to you three?” He brought a hand to his chest, “Why, it nearly breaks my heart…”

Violet growled like a feral animal trapped in a corner. _He’d like to see her fail, wouldn’t he?_

“Why can’t you do it Violet?” Olaf tilted his head.

“I don’t…”

“Hm?”

She closed her eyes, “I wouldn’t know what a passionate kiss looks like!”

“Is that all?” Olaf curled a hand beneath his chin as a smile grew on his features.

Violet opened her eyes and looked at him. Truly looked at him. The devil was human.

“All you require is a demonstration, isn’t that right?”

_Was he going to kiss her? Here? In front of all these people?_

He stood and sauntered to his right, watching her all the while.

_That would absolutely incriminate him. Maybe she should let him do it. Maybe…_

“Mrs. Hopkins?”

The teacher looked startled. “Yes, Director?”

“Would you care to be my partner in demonstration?”

Violet gasped along with her teacher. _“You can’t!”_

“And why not?”

“She’s married!”

“Violet, Violet.” Olaf shook his head. “This is a theatre kiss. Not a real kiss. It doesn’t mean a single thing.”

Violet wet her suddenly dry lips. “I don’t know if her husband would agree.”

“Would your husband disapprove of your acting career, Annette?”

“Oh,” Mrs. Hopkins giggled, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“See?” Olaf turned towards the stage as he grabbed Annette’s hand and helped her to stand. “She’s only doing what she was hired to do, Violet. She’s a teacher.”

Violet’s palms grew hot as Olaf grabbed her teacher around the waist, pulling her flush against his skinny hips. He brought a hand to her cheek, over the back of her neck, and stared at Violet for a moment before announcing, “Like this.”

As his lips crashed against Mrs. Hopkins’ mouth, he kept his eyes locked on Violet. She swallowed against the upset in her stomach, watching with round eyes at the absurdity of it all. Olaf could get away with anything, absolutely _anything_!

“You’re the **_only_** one that I want,” Olaf determinedly looked at Violet as he recited the line. Her stomach fell as if she gone through the first drop of a roller coaster. Her hands trembled as they clutched her skirt tightly. “There. Was that demonstration thorough enough for you?”

All Violet could do was breathe in response.

“Now kiss him. Like that. _Action!_ ” Olaf waved his hand.

Violet looked to James who seemed as perturbed by the whole event as she was. At least that was some comfort. _Sorry James,_ she thought as she closed her eyes and dove forward. _This means nothing, absolutely nothing,_ she thought as she opened and closed her mouth in mirror movements to Olaf. She looked towards him, for retribution or approval she did not know. Her tentative gaze was and was met with a hunger she had never known. Her body pulled back in fear of it. As she regained her breath, she wiped her lips daintily with the back of her hand. “Will that suffice, _director_?”

Olaf leaned back in his chair with a smile. “That will do, Baudelaire. For now.”


	5. Chapter 5

“You liked it, didn’t you.”

“Excuse me?”

“You liked kissing that boy.”

“James?” Violet winced, “Hardly.”

“Why? Not man enough for you?”

Violet straightened her posture. “I’m only doing what you tell me.”

“So obedient, Baudelaire. And obedience is not in your nature.”

“What? Would you rather I disobeyed and ran?”

“The chase would be fun...” Olaf appeared wistful- his eyes like a wolf.

“Well, if the lives of my siblings weren’t in jeopardy, I can assure you, I would not kiss whosoever you placed in front of me.”

“Some of my troupe are interested, you know.” Olaf examined the script in his hand.

“Who?” Violet drew back.

“Fernald,” Olaf turned the page in disinterest, “for one.”

“I must ask again,” Violet reiterated, “who?”

Olaf looked up and gave a small chuckle. “Honorable women can be so cruel.” He snapped his fingers as the hook handed man approached. “This one, Violet. He wouldn’t mind being the lead- so to speak.”

Violet examined the innocent interest in the man’s eyes and felt her stomach grow queasy. “No, thank you.”

Fernald breathed out, “Is it the hands?”

“No, Fernald, I’m sorry. I just don’t like being told who to kiss.” She glanced at Olaf, “Or marry, for that matter.”

Fernald shrugged, “Worth a shot.”

“The lady has spoken,” Olaf iterated over his shoulder as the henchman turned towards the shadows. “He’s a quite a noble man, you know, or, you would know if you didn’t judge based upon appearances.”

“I don’t judge on appearance!” Violet hissed, “I judge upon acquaintance. And anyone who is a friend of yours is no friend of mine.”

“There’s my little Violet,” Olaf placed his face in his hand. “Now, tell me what you know about sex.”

Violet nearly sputtered at the non-sequitur. “It’s a way to make children.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes,” Violet nodded staunchly. “That’s all.” Please don’t continue.

A wicked smile grew on his face. “You’ve never had sex. Have you.”

It wasn’t a question. “Who’s to say?” Violet crossed her arms. “Maybe I have. Maybe I haven’t.”

“If it’s solely for making offspring, as you say, wouldn’t you have a brat in tow?”

“It doesn’t happen on the first try,” Violet sassed.

“Not all the time,” Olaf leaned back in his director’s chair. “Have you ever touched yourself, Violet?”

“What purpose would that serve?” She truly needed to know.

Olaf’s laugh was even more wicked than his smile. “What do you think?”

“Well, you can’t make children on your own.”

“Exactly,” he nodded.

“Then, why?”

“Well, that I need you to understand. My bald compatriot can help you understand if-“

 _“No!”_ Violet shivered “No, tell me, why do I need to understand?”

“Your character motivation is sexual. And your motivation is not to have children. So, then, what is it?”

Violet shook her head, “It must be… liberating?”

Olaf leaned forward. “You have no idea.”

“No,” Violet squinted, “I really don’t.”

“Touch yourself,” Olaf inclined his head.

“I beg your pardon?” Violet curled her hand around her script in anger.

“That would better help you understand what you’re after.”

 _“It’s a school play,”_ Violet spat. “Why is it about sex in the first place?”

Olaf laughed through his nose. “It’s not about sex. It’s about the human experience. And masturbation is a large part of it.”

Violet recoiled in horror.

“Oh, please,” Olaf rolled his eyes, “You’re old enough. You can’t tell me you haven’t wanted to.”

“Not in the least!” Violet contended in earnest.

“Well,” Olaf placed his elbows on his knees, “You just haven’t had a reason. I could help, if you wanted.”

“No, thank you!” Violet pressed her legs together.

Olaf sighed as he sat back, “This was why I asked what turned you on in the first place.”

“Well, excuse me if nothing has turned me on so far.”

“You into feminine curves?” Olaf cocked a part of his eyebrow.

“No!” Violet blushed.

“I can play a woman, Violet,” Olaf crooked a finger under his chin, “You saw me play one very well. Did you enjoy Shirley?”

Violet sank further into her chair as she looked at her script.

“You did, didn’t you?” Olaf circled her chair, lifting her hair, “You want Shirley to teach you what it means to be a woman?”

“I don’t,” Violet closed her eyes at the tingling of her scalp, “I don’t know.”

Olaf spoke soothingly in a light voice into her left ear, “I’ll take care of you, Violet. Treat you right.”

Violet breathed in.

“Would you like that, Violet?”

She nodded.

“Let me teach you what feels good. You want that?”

Violet leaned back as Olaf trailed his fingers down to her chest, drifting his right hand to her nipple. “Right here.” He played with her nipple with one finger as he whispered into her ear, “Doesn’t this feel nice?”

“Yes,” Violet breathed out, biting her lip as Olaf pinched her nipple lightly.

“How good?”

“Good.” Violet closed her eyes tighter and breathed out as Olaf continued to tease her. If he continued to play someone else maybe- maybe she could enjoy this. "Very good."

He brushed his left hand down her midsection as his right continued with her chest. His voice still light, “You want me to continue, Violet? You want me to touch you down there?”

“Yess…” She continued to feel the tightening in her stomach from her chest.

His hand approached her underwear, under her skirt. His thumb drew across her apex. “You want me- down here?”

“I want it,” she breathed out in anticipation.

He pressed his thumb under her cotton underwear and she gasped. “That’s it,” he wheezed into her ear, “that’s how it should feel.”

She opened her legs wider in response. After circling her clit, he pressed his index finger inside of her.

“Ah,” she opened her eyes and looked down, deciding to shut them again and breathe.

“You like that, don’t you?”

Violet swallowed, “I don’t know.”

Shirley’s voice was light. “I know just what you need.” She cupped Violet’s breast in her right hand, toying with the nipple, as her left dug into her cunt. “How’s that?”

Violet pressed her hips forward, “Feels good.”

“You like it,” Olaf breathed into her ear as he rolled her nipple and thumbed her clit, “don’t you?”

“Yes!” Violet tilted her head back, pressing her hips into the sensation. She dare not open her eyes.

“How does it feel, Violet?” His voice whispered to her ear.

“Heaven,” she pressed forward, somehow gaining the sensation while she was in hell.

“That’s my girl,” Shirley whispered, “All mine.”

“Yours,” Violet reiterated, if that would bring her to the edge.

“Do you want my mouth on you?”

“Mouth?” Violet opened and closed her eyes.

“It would give you just what you need.”

“Then, yes.” She gulped, “Yes, Shirley.”

“Good girl,” Olaf whispered as he came to her front. “I’m going to use it now.”

“Okay,” Violet nodded with her eyes still closed.

There was a silence as he pressed between her legs. "So wet, little orphan." His mouth opened on her and it felt better than his fingers, her hips moved forward in response. She could feel his skull on the skin of her thighs. Maybe she could wrap her legs around his neck. She opened her eyes to see his elbow moving. She closed them once again. 

“Mm…” He breathed against her clit and she moaned in response.

“Yes,” her hand moved to her nipple in response, “please.” Something was bringing her to a place she had never known. The only thing she recognized is that she had to get there. “Aaaguh!” She shifted in the chair as she emitted a cry she had never heard before. In that moment everything was right. Until it quickly became wrong. 

Olaf lapped at her as if this was something he’d known would come. She twitched in response, waiting for his tongue to stop its ministrations. It was all too much.

“That’s exactly what I wanted, little orphan,” Olaf wiped his mouth as daintily as Violet had wiped hers after kissing James.

She tried to catch her breath as Olaf left her legs.

“You’re a good girl.” He smiled. “The best.” He affirmed. “Now, I’ll never let you go.”

Fear thrummed in her as she straightened up, “You know I’ll never stay.”

He knelt on the stage, "Then, I’ll just have to think of something…”


End file.
